


This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.

by viciouswishes



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-01
Updated: 2008-02-01
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:20:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viciouswishes/pseuds/viciouswishes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To strangle Angel, to piss him off, is a fitting futile move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is your life and it's ending one minute at a time.

Gunn wants to strangle Angel, but instead he wrings a dishtowel over and over. He craves drama in his violent expression. To strangle Angel, to piss him off, is a fitting futile move. Then maybe he'll punch Wes, fist connecting with hard bone, and Gunn will have something real to feel guilty about.

Gunn throws the wet towel on the counter before marching upstairs. He's a solider on a mission, making his way between torn, faded stripe wallpaper and cobwebs. All the places between his and Angel's suites no one has cleaned.

Gunn shouldn't have been played for a fool, or let himself become messed up like this.

"Is there something you need, Gunn?" Angel asks, never looking up from the book he's reading. Vampire senses are as creepy as hell, and ever since Darla left and Buffy died, Angel doesn't pretend anymore. He doesn't pretend not to notice when Cordelia's put on too much perfume or when Gunn's in Wes' office with his pants around his ankles.

Gunn's arms remain firmly crossed. He won't be moved out of Angel's artificially dark room. "Why?" Gunn wants to know. No, needs to know. Thinks he needs to know the what and whys that went on between Angel and Wes.

Angel grunts. "Ask Wes." His body's still in the chair.

Wes. Gunn's seeing red and green like some fucking Christmas tree and Angel's still acting like nothing's happening. Wes didn't come to Gunn's bed apologizing and then move out for nothing.

Gunn reaches out and yanks the book from Angel's hands. Goddamn vampire's going to pay attention when Gunn's talking to him.

And when Gunn asks Angel why again, he finds himself being pushed against the wall. Even though Angel's glaring up at him, Gunn feels tiny under his grasp. Even scared. But he's pushing his fear down, far down.

"What do you want?" Angel demands.

Gunn says something incoherent: something about Wes, Angel, him, sex, cheating, moving out. His mouth's dry.

"Wes once told me that he was my faithful servant," Angel says.

'Servant' causes Gunn to struggle against Angel's stone grip. He aims his knee right at Angel's crotch. But Gunn's head slams back against the wall with a crack before he can do anything. "Asshole," Gunn groans. All Wes would ever be to Angel was a 'servant.'

"I don't remember seeing your name tattooed on his ass," Gunn says. He swears he sees a flash of gold in Angel's eyes. Vampires don't need tattoos when they have teeth.

Angel's hands start to burn into Gunn's shoulders. He never expected a vampire to be so warm. Not the cold, dead thing Gunn had accused Wes of fucking. Gunn needs to understand; he needs Wes.

They're silent, staring at each other. Two roosters with heckles up and razors out like a warehouse cock fight.

Gunn doesn't realize he's said it or what this is until the words drop from his lips; "Show me."

Angel's eyes don't flinch, but his stance loosens, making Gunn feel less intimate with the wall and more so with Angel. Angel's getting off on this, his hard-on tenting in his dark pants and nudging against Gunn's thigh.

Then there's the clank of Gunn's belt, the opening of his zipper and boxers, and Angel's hand moving over Gunn's cock. His groin arches toward Angel, while his mind's repulsed when Angel's face curves into his neck. Gunn's pulse thumps louder with hatred, lust, and jealousy than the noise from the street.

When they first started training together, Angel always surprised Gunn with his speed, and this hand job's no different. Angel makes Gunn instantly turned on and makes his body beg, twist, and cry out; Gunn almost understands Wes' servant remark.

Gunn comes in Angel's hand quicker than he has since losing his virginity at 17 to Angie between dinner and patrol. He's in the lull of orgasm until Angel starts removing more clothing. Gunn's brain snaps to attention and his hands go to Angel's chest to push him away.

Vampires are pure evil, Gunn reminds himself. They're filthy, and Gunn's been joining them bit by bit ever since he first met Angel. He stinks like them, and now one's gotten him off after being begged to, after Gunn's boyfriend sunk to his knees and sucked off Angel.

"Still want this?" Angel's question hangs heavy in the room. Gunn can't see beyond his own breath; there's a low sinking feeling in his chest.

Gunn elbows Angel in the ribs. This still isn't ended. He isn't bent over a bed; that's not happening. Gunn swears he sees Wes in the doorway, but blinks, only to find the spot empty and the door closed.

Angel's letting him go, and Gunn's never felt such an urge to spit in the vampire's face.

Instead, Gunn's tucking in his soft dick and messing with his zipper. It seems to take forever as he keeps one eye on Angel. Angel who's still tense and horny like an angry stallion shoved in a tiny stall at the racetrack, the only place Gunn's ever seen a horse.

"Stay away from him," Gunn says. His words fall empty. They both know it isn't happening; Angel's not controllable by anyone or anything. Gunn, on the other hand, can't see beyond Wes.

Gunn shudders and longs to get out. He knows better than to turn his back on a vampire, but he does anyway. Just walks away and leaves Angel wanting.

Gunn walks faster down the stairs, almost in a sprint by the time he reaches the bottom step. He about knocks Fred over on his way out. She gives him a look like she knows. Fred probably does, snooping around for hours in all corners of the hotel and making notes on her walls about all of them. She keeps her hair braided in two like an innocent girl. The kind of girl he always imagined marrying and settling down with.

The kind of thing he used to think when Wes laid in his bed in the morning light, when thinking about how settling down wouldn't be so bad. Now rage and shame are still a hot inside Gunn, and Wes is never going to snore softly in his bed again. Instead, Wes'll whimper under Angel again and again; the way Gunn did.

Gunn's imprinted the image of his lover being fucked by his enemy everywhere he looks. Gunn's pretty sure he's the sickest fuck of them all.

He needs to get out of this hotel.


End file.
